Dear Perusers, The editor of this increasingly popular publication, God love him, has begged me to write another composition this month.
‘Les,’ he memoed, ‘keep it up, mate. You help so many people with your inimitable brand of nononsense wisdom.’
‘Will old Les never stop bursting into print?’ I hear few of you bastards exclaim.
In point of established fact, writing these fearless compositions is therapy for me. Just lately, I’ve been as popular as a turd in a jacuzzi.
My wonderful wife, Gwen (the
